Page 21 of A Billion Dollar Romance
The woman smiled, her own eyebrows raised.
“I’m sure you know he’s an incredible writer, as well as being apassableteacher,” she continued, looking over at me with a light laugh, “and I write as well, so I looked him up after graduation, hoping he could continue giving me feedback on my work. And, well…” She shrugged.
It was just a story. But it sounded… I wanted it to be real. Edie looked up at me; her eyes like sparkling diamonds themselves.
“Mr. Martin,” the owner prompted, and I blinked. She held out the too-large ring, not to Edie, but to me.
Of course.
It would be me who put it on her finger.
I took it, and turned to Edie, who held out her hand, slim fingers painted with pale pink polish. We were so close that I could hear her short intake of breath when I took her hand in mine. I slipped the ring onto her finger, and looked from the ring to her.
“Well,” I murmured. “What do you think?”
“I think,” she said, then smiled. “I think my finger would fall off before I finished editing evenonecelebrity memoir.”
I laughed, the sound surprised out of my lungs. “Too big?”
She nodded, brow furrowed. “Much.”
“Something smaller, but still elegant,” the owner said, and gestured to the door, where an employee lingered.
“Sorry to interrupt, but here’s tray three for you.”
“Wonderful, thank you, Clara.”
We tried on ring after ring, these ones smaller than those in the first tray, until–
“This is the one,” I growled, as the ring snugged over Edie’s knuckle.
“Radiant cut, flawless clarity, platinum setting,” the shopkeeper said, businesslike, but soft. “A beautiful selection.”
“It’s too much,” Edie whispered, but the way she tilted her hand back and forth to catch the light told me otherwise.
“Perhaps for Edie Taylor,” I said, tightening my hand around hers. “Not for Edie Martin.”
It was the first time I’d said that name aloud. I hadn’t expected the way it burst over my tongue, lighter and more delicious than the Champagne we’d toasted with.
She nodded. “Yes.”
I smiled.
“And will you be selecting the wedding band today as well, sir?”
Edie’s eyes twinkled, and I knew just what she was thinking.
“Not today, thank you,” I said, glancing at the tray of plain bands in a selection of widths, and more elaborate bands set with even more diamonds. Which would Edie want? Something simple.
It didn’t matter. This engagement was never going to end with a wedding. It would just be fewer appearances, fewer events, until the book launch had passed, the author’s name made, and Verity was safe. A quiet announcement of a broken engagement. Mutually beneficial, just like our current agreement.
“Typically, we would keep the ring for sizing, but this one seems to be a perfect fit. Would you like to wear it out? Or do you have plans for this evening, perhaps?” the owner asked with a knowing smile. Plans that included a ring box and a proposal.
“Both,” I said, and Edie looked up in surprise.
“We do?”
“We do now,” I said, and reached into my suit jacket for my wallet. I slid my card across the table, and the shopkeeper took it, disappearing into the back for a moment, returning with my card and a tiny bag. Inside would be an empty box, the second. I should throw them away; I wanted Edie to wear this ring always.
